


With Excessive Hand Gestures

by aprill99



Series: Overheard Conversations [15]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Papa Lance, Young Laurel, Young Oliver, Young Tommy, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprill99/pseuds/aprill99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin Lance realized a very long time ago that Oliver talked more with his hands than he did with his voice. Ever since he had been a very small child if you wanted to know what Oliver really thought or felt while he was talking to you to know what he really meant you had to watch his hands. This remained true long in to Oliver's adulthood even after his time on the island. Oliver Queen talks with his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Excessive Hand Gestures

Ollie Queen always talked with his hands as a little kid. He made big gestures and tapped his fingers on hard surfaces. It used to drive Lance nuts but at least he always knew when the kid was in the room, or more accurately (and probably more helpfully), he always knew when Oliver was feeling nervous or anxious

The first time Lance realized that particular tick was at the end of the school year in third grade. Laurel had dragged Oliver ad Tommy home with her because Tommy's father was working and Moira Queen had been put on bed rest while pregnant with Thea. Robert Queen was only about half way through a month long business trip in Russia.

Lance had said he would look after both boys along with Laurel while Dinah took Sara to a Mommy and Me class. He figured that if he was looking after them the two boys might get some actual parenting as opposed to just general supervision by an adult. He hadn't known that that was the day all of the students were getting their end of year report cards to take home.

From the kitchen window of the apartment Lance had watched every other kid spill off the bus. Oliver, Tommy, and Laurel had come off last from the back of the bus. Laurel had explained that the three of them always sat there because Ollie liked to watch everyone else and Tommy liked that the bus driver couldn't see the back row. Laurel herself liked that she could spread out across the seat and do homework on the way home.

He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the edges of his mouth as Oliver stopped at the road level and turned back to wait for Laurel. She called something down to him and Oliver listened before shrugging off his backpack and handing it to Tommy. He backed up to the bottom step and stood still while he let Laurel climb onto his back in the place of the bag. Queen and Merlyn had both gone through growth spurts recently but Oliver was slightly less gangly and awkwardly proportioned than Tommy was.

The three kids slowly made their way towards the building. Laurel was chatting animatedly about something right next to Queen's ear with her hands over his eyes. Lance's best guess was that Merlyn and Laurel were giving Oliver directions to see if he could do it blindfolded. They reached the door and Lance opened it so that all three of them tumbled in at once.

"Hey Mr. Lance," Tommy greeted, slipping past him and dropping both back packs he held on the floor near the kitchen table.

"Hey Daddy," Laurel greeted with a giggle, hands still clamped tight over Oliver's eyes. "We wanted to see if Ollie could make it all the way in to the house with his eyes shut. This was the best way to make sure he wasn't cheating.

Oliver sighed and twisted around, trying to move out of Laurels grasp. Looking back on the moment, Lance thought it was hard not to see that particular moment as prophetic. "I wasn't gonna cheat," Oliver mumbled. "Can I open my eyes now Laurel?"

"No!" Laurel laughed, holding a little tighter.

Lance saw Oliver frown under his daughters hands. "Why not?" he whined. "We made it to your house didn't we?"

"We're at my house," Laurel explained patiently. "We're not in my house. You said in to before."

Oliver heaved a deep breath and hitched Laurel up a little higher. He reached out blindly with one hand to feel for any objects in his way and took a careful step forward over the threshold. Lance stepped sideways, clearing the way and moving back into the kitchen. He watched, ready to intervene if it looked like Queen was about to trip on something and send himself and Laurel crashing to the floor.

But Queen made it all the way into the living room before pausing. Tommy plopped down on the couch to his left. "The couch is over hear Ollie," he called. Oliver followed his voice, playing a piggyback version of Marco Polo, one arm still stretched in front of him. "Ow!" Merlyn complained. "Don't smack me in the face Ollie!"

"Sorry," Lance heard Oliver mutter as his hands came in to contact with the couch cushion. He turned and dropped Laurel backwards on to the couch and rolled his shoulders, blinking as his eyes readjusted to the light.

Laurel bounced up off of the couch, her own backpack still in place. She grabbed Oliver and Tommy and ran back in to the kitchen, dragging both boys behind her. She spun her backpack around to her front and hopped up on to the kitchen counter. Tommy and Oliver each followed picking up their own bags. Tommy charged right up next to Laurel but Oliver followed a little more sedately.

"Our report cards came today Daddy!" Laurel informed him cheerfully. She was in the process of digging a small white envelope out of her purple backpack and then proceeded to open it. She did it carefully, cutting along the top with a pair of plastic safety scissors. Tommy simply ripped the entire top off the envelope. Laurel gave a crow of triumph and brandished her perfect report card for Quentin to see.

Lance smiled and wrapped her in a quick hug. "That's great sweetie," he had praised, turning and rearranging the magnets on the fridge so that the report was pinned in place. When he turned back around Tommy was pulling a face and stuffing the envelope back in to his bag.

Oliver's envelope was still sitting on the counter unopened. One of his hands lay on the counter top, tapping out a quick staccato rhythm. He seemed to notice Lance's eyes on him because he glanced up with a frown on his face. "Hey honey," Lance said to Laurel. "How's about you and Tommy go on into the living room and pick a movie while Oliver helps me set up somethin' to eat for you guys?

That was all the prompting Laurel needed to hop off the counter and pull Tommy after her out of the room. She was firing rapid questions at him about his own report card and Tommy was nimbly side stepping them. Lance shook his head. He could see that kid ending up in a heap of trouble one of these days.

Lance turned back to Oliver who was still staring at the envelope like he thought it might eat him. That or come to life and start shouting at him like something out of one of those Harry Potter books Dinah read out loud to the girls at night. Oliver's fingers were still tapping against the counter top.

"You okay there kid?" he asked. Oliver nodded. "Okay," Lance shrugged. "What then? Just not interested in checking out your grades?"

"I know'em already," Oliver replied, not looking at him.

His fingers continued to pick up speed until Lance dropped a hand flat over his, stilling the movement. "You have to quit it with the tapping Queen," he warned. "It's irritating. So, did you fail math or something?" Lance decided that was the better question as opposed to how exactly Olive had managed to learn what was on his report card before anyone else. Rich parents could get you a lot.

Oliver shook his head. "Got a B," he mumbled. His fingers had now begun to tap away at his thigh in place of the countertop. It made no sound so Lance couldn't say it bugged him.

"What was it then?" Lance continued, popping a bag of popcorn in to the microwave and hit start. "English?"

He didn't turn around but Oliver must have shaken his head because he answered in the negative. "No. I got a B in that to. Got a B in everything except Spanish. I got an A in that," Oliver looked up then and smiled. It was a smile that was bright and full of an almost defiantly happy pride, as though he was daring someone to tell him that that wasn't a good thing. "Senora Loreta says I've got a gift with it."

Lance leaned back across the counter towards the nine year old standing there. "So what's the problem?"

Oliver pulled a face. "The only person who's going to see it is Raisa. She's gonna put it in this file with all the others for when my Dad isn't working and my Mom isn't tired. But Dad's always working and Mom's been tired since forever and once the baby is here she's just going to be more tired and Dad's going to be working forever and the file is just going to go in to this file cabinet in the library. If it was really good they'd look at it, and if it was really bad they'd try to do something to fix it. But B is just normal. My parents don't have time for normal."

His fingers had started tapping against the counter again and Lance couldn't bring himself to make the kid stop. Not when most kids who had just said something like that would have already started crying. Lance wasn't so good with crying. But acting like a parent, well, he already had two kids he had practiced that on. He held out a hand and snapped his fingers. "Give it over Kid."

Looking slightly confused, Oliver complied with his right hand as his left continued it's rhythm against the counter top. It was much slower now though as Lance pulled his focus away from his parents. Quentin slit the top of the envelope with a practiced flick and extracted the report card. There was Oliver's full name with five classes and their grades. Two flat Bs two B+s and one A.

He tacked up the card on the fridge right next to Laurel's and pulled out the popcorn as it finished. He turned and handed the bag to a wide-eyed Oliver Queen who was starring at him like he'd just made the world pause and spin backwards. His hands had gone still on the counter. "Whenever your parents want to see it tell him to come over here and take a look. Okay?"

Oliver nodded and Lance waved him towards the living room where he could still hear Laurel and Tommy bickering over what movie to watch. "Now go and pick a movie no parent should ever let three kids watch and eat your freaking popcorn." Oliver seemed to sense that their talk was over and zipped away from the counter at top speed.

That was when Lance had really first noticed that when Oliver felt stressed or upset or couldn't deal with an emotion he seemed to transfer it to his hands. When the rest of him was under such rigid control he let his fingers break it so that everything else kept form. It was like his own little warning message that he was on an edge.

The finger tapping also bled over when Oliver was feeling impatient. When Thea had been born Lance ha driven Oliver to the hospital to meet her and had had to watch the kid almost beaten a bruise in to his own leg. The nurse had been reluctant to let a ten year old boy hold a newborn baby who had been born premature.

Lance had watched something amazing and almost a little bit scary happen then. Ten year old Oliver Queen had pulled himself up to his currently meager height and squared his scrawny shoulders. His eyes had narrowed as he put his hands on his hip. "That's my little sister in that crib," he'd started, sounding as cold and demanding as anyone in his family ever had. "She's really tiny and holding little babies helps them get stronger. "I read all about it. From an actual doctor book. If I want to hold my baby sister you have to let me!"

The nurse had gaped at him and speechlessly opened the industrial crib and handed over the tiny pink and white bundle. Lance stood ready to help support the tiny body but clearly Oliver had learned something from the reading he had been doing because he cradled the baby gently, if a little clumsily. He even remembered to support her head.

"Mom says you're named Thea," Oliver said, addressing her seriously. "My baby sister Thea. But that works two ways okay? You're my little sister and I'm you're big brother. You might have to remind me about that sometimes. I'm not always that great about caring about other people, but I'm going to try okay?"

Lance watched as he adjusted Thea up on his shoulder a little ways. "Tommy's my best friend," he continued. "Him and Laurel, so their kind of like your siblings to. Laurel has a little sister too. Sara. Maybe you two can be friends when you get bigger." Oliver adjust Thea to look at the top of her head. "Mom says you've got hair already but I don't think I should take your hat off. Everybody around here says you're supposed to stay warm.

Thea shifted in her blankets and wrapped a tiny hand around Oliver's thumb. Lance saw Oliver's anxious little face soften, and his hands were completely still as he held his little sister. After a few minutes the nurse took Thea back and put her in her crib. Lance noted with a slightly disturbed feeling that she asked the ten year old for permission first.

Oliver leaned against the glass wall of the crib as Thea twisted and pressed a hand against it. Oliver sank down on the floor in front of it and pressed his own palm against the glass over it. His thumb moved across the glass like he could touch Thea's tiny hand through it. Lance saw his face crinkle in to a serious expression, his thumb not breaking it's movement. "I'm going to protect you Thea," he said. "I promise."

Lance saw Oliver break a lot of promises in his lifetime, but that was never one of them.

Oliver's fingers tapped away when he was impatient and waiting for things to happen. Lance noticed it when he chaperoned school field trips to amusement parks and zoos. At bars when he had to wait for a drink to be served his fingers picked up a rhythm against the countertop. Whenever Oliver had to wait in a very long line his fingers started tapping against his leg, against a table or a wall, or against each other. Luckily for Oliver, he happened to have enough money to open new lines. And if Verdant was any indication, new bars.

The point was, if you had known Oliver for long enough it became fairly clear that he expressed emotion and talked with his hands. This was an incredibly helpful thing in some circumstances though. Like life threatening, or crucial business ones.

In the beginning of Oliver's first ever mayoral term (because yeah, that happened) he had been kidnapped. As it turned out, no one else had actually wanted that job after the last few people to hold it had died. Oliver had run with minimal opposition, and won by a landslide. Everyone, including Team Arrow had voted for Oliver sheerly out of a desire to see what would happen. As it turned out, several remarkably good things including a clean energy initiative, and multiple programs to benefit foster systems and recovery in the Glades.

Anyway, Oliver had been kidnapped by several relatively intelligent thugs who at the very least had had the decency to try to scramble their location when they sent their ransom video to the mayor's office. Felicity had beaten the scrambler and had the location in minutes, but Lance felt like he had to at least acknowledge the effort. Credit where credit was due and all that.

In the video Lance had held perfectly still apart from one hand by his side. the fingers of his right hand had clicked together in rapid succession. To most people, this would have looked like nothing more than a nervous tick. After all, as far as the public was concerned their mayor was a pretty normal guy. Albeit a former castaway billionaire playboy.

However, to Diggle the clicking had been a clear message. The massive bodyguard had leaned up close to the camera and focused in on the tiny portion of the screen that contained Oliver's fingers. "That's military," he said. "Quick code. Three, that's the floor he's on," Diggle waited another moment. "Four," he said gesturing at the screen. "That's the number of windows. Then one," Diggle backed away and loaded his gun. "One door. Do you have the location Felicity?"

"Right here," Felicity said, spinning in her chair and handing Diggle a sticky note with the address scribbled on it. "It's an abandoned warehouse. It's actually only four blocks South of here which is really ironic when you think about it. I mean, they kidnapped Oliver from his office and then brought him like, less than a mile from our secret underground base. Is that ironic? I might have defined that wrong..."

"I'll bring you a dictionary when we bring my brother back," Thea called, already on her way out the door behind Diggle. "Tell Laurel to meet us there!"

Lance moved out after them and used the radio in his squad car to coordinate police efforts so that Team Arrow would have minimal involvement. Things between the SCPD and vigilantes were still a little strained. Besides, not enough time had gone by between Oliver being accused of being the Arrow and this kidnapping for every other vigilante in the city to charge to his rescue without it arousing suspicion. Lance got the feeling Oliver would have gotten out himself within five minutes if he weren't trying to fly under the radar a little more these days.

After about forty minutes, the kidnapers were on their way to booking and Oliver was standing safely on the pavement in front of several news cameras. He gave an excellent speech extolling the virtues of the SCPD and promising a sizeable charitable donation to the yearly fund. From a political standpoint, it was a freakishly good speech. From a personal standpoint, Lance couldn't deny that the perfect political delivery gave him the creeps.

The slight rubbing of his thumb over his index finger was the only indication that he was at all uncomfortable in front of the cameras. "Thank you very much and goodnight," Oliver concluded, turning away from the cameras. He was immediately greeted with an armful of blonde IT genius. "Hey," Lance heard him murmur softly. His arms wrapped around her as he pressed a kiss into Felicity's hair. Then his hands were still.

As it turned out, Oliver could communicate more directly with his hands than Lance had thought. This had been demonstrated when he had gone by Oliver's office. It was the bi-weekly whole team meeting where they all ordered take out and did a general information consolidation. Some weeks it became just an excuse to all sit down and have a meal. Team Arrow didn't generally get much other time for actual team building.

Now they had a comfortably decorated back room of the mayor's office that was plus air conditioning and minus electronic monitoring. Besides, a lot of the time they could make the food they ordered a tax write-off.

Lance had gotten there a little early that week to hand over extra files on the criminals closest. Oliver was in the middle of a conversation with his former step father Walter Steel. Walter was now in control of Oliver's finances and had been re-hired by Felicity as CFO.

"Oliver," Walter said in his warm accent. "This is our new head of climate research Mariana Calvary."

A petite Spanish women stepped forward and smiled at Oliver. The two shook hands and in the next moment Lance felt his jaw hit the floor. Oliver raised his hands and went through a quick flurry of precise hand motions that Lance recognized as sign language. "It's very nice to meet you," Oliver said slowly as he completed the signs.

The small smile Calvary had been wearing before blossomed in to a full blown grin. "I look forward to working with you Mr. Queen," she replied haltingly. The meeting had concluded soon after and Walter had left with Calvary glowing with paternal pride.

Oliver released a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back to relieve tension. Lance stepped forward and handed over the files he had brought. "When the hell did you learn sign language Queen?" he asked.

Oliver turned to face him. "About two weeks ago when I found out I had a meeting with Mariana Calvary," he replied. "Felicity dug in to her background ad found out she had gone deaf when she was six after her school bus crashed in to a semi-truck. When she told me I asked her to find me a sign language class. I've been taking them online. I thought it would be easier to work with her if we could actually communicate. It's going to take a couple more weeks though. The only other words I really know involve pets and the color yellow. So..."

Lance just shook his head and moved into the back room they used for their meetings. Some subjects were better left decisively unexplored.

When Oliver managed to catch Bronchitis he had been put under strict doctor's orders not to speak unless absolutely necessary. What had followed was a few exceptionally frustrating days of Morse Code, military hand gestures, and furiously scrawled messages on an extra large legal pad.

Lance had been at Arrow Cave 2.0 which Oliver refused to leave even with a high fever. Felicity had managed to get him to lie down on the cot in the back corner by methods involving blackmail, coercion, threats, wheedling, and her loud voice. However, Oliver still refused to sleep.

From Lance's memory Oliver had never been a very cooperative patient. As a little kid he had been the kind of sick patient who refused to take medicine if he thought it tasted bad. Lance also remembered one particular occasion when Oliver had climbed out a window and down the tree outside it to avoid being driven to the doctor to get tested for strep throat. His tonsils had been the approximate size of golf balls before the doctors had managed to get him to sit still long enough to check them.

At the end of the night Felicity had packed up and gone to wake Oliver who had gone in to a kind of stupor somewhere between consciousness and sleep. "Oliver," she said. "Oliver it's time to go home and get you to a real bed. That position can not be comfortable for your neck. Or your back. Or really your anything."

Lance saw Oliver focus on her blearily and shake his head. Felicity sighed. "Now is not the time for you to try to be stubborn Oliver. Either you walk out to the car and let me drive you home or I'm going to call Digg and let him carry you. Then I will take a picture and give it to Thea to use as blackmail whenever either one of us feels like it."

Oliver reached out and took her hand. Still shaking his head Oliver pulled her closer to the edge of the cot and made her sit down. Felicity rolled her eyes. "Really? You want to cuddle?"

Lance saw Oliver make a face but then he nodded and Felicity hunkered down next to him, still holding his hand. "Fine. I'll stay."

Lance turned the lights out on his way out the door.

Oliver Queen tended to do a lot of talking when his hands.

They delivered warning in high stress situations and let him communicate when other people couldn't hear or he couldn't talk. When he used them to fight they delivered threats, blackmail, demands, and other warnings. They tapped out Morse Code and military directives.

When Oliver was nervous, or upset, or hanging on a ledge they said that to. Lance had begun to realize that nowadays that particular tick was Oliver missing the bow string from his hands. The quick rub of his index finger over his thumb was the release pattern of the arrow leaving his bow. Lance was almost glad he hadn't known that initially. If he had known a little bit more about archery he would have arrested Oliver within twenty seconds.

But he also used hands to say much quieter things. Things like stay, you're safe, I'm here, and I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you guys think? I hope it was good and I wanted to get something posted before the end of the week. I have to take my sister to D.C on Friday so my next post will probably be up around Tuesday. Anyway, hope you liked it! Read, comment, review! Your feedback is what makes all of the time spent writing worth it! Kudos are fantastic! Review for me! xoxoxoxooxoxoxoxooxooxoxoxoooxoxxxxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo


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